


Hold Me Tight or Don't

by justasock_x



Series: M A N I A by Fall Out Boy [3]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Frottage, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has a Big Dick, I took a lot of liberty with succubus lore and effects I think, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Masturbation, Overstimulation, Scent Kink, Succubus Effects
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:48:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26090632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justasock_x/pseuds/justasock_x
Summary: Oh no, no this isn't how our story ends. So hold me tight. Hold me tight, or don't.Jaskier likes to take care of Geralt.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: M A N I A by Fall Out Boy [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1894084
Comments: 2
Kudos: 98





	Hold Me Tight or Don't

**Author's Note:**

> Fics in this series are oneshots loosely based on the songs from the album M A N I A, by Fall Out Boy. Not beta-read, all mistakes are my own. Fandom knowledge comes exclusively from the TV series, other fics, and cursory Googling.

Jaskier’s breathing was shallow and quick and he didn’t twitch when Geralt lifted him bodily from the forest floor where he’d crumpled after being attacked by the succubus. Jaskier had insisted on following Geralt this time. _Stupid bard_ , he thought uncharitably.

_"I haven't seen a succubus in person!" he had argued, cheeks flushed as he gesticulated._

_"Doesn't matter," Geralt had grunted back. "Too dangerous."_

_Jaskier's nose had flared. "Am I weak, a liability?" he had snapped, folding his arms. Geralt had known then he'd backed himself into a corner. Damn it. The little shit always got his way._

The _problem_ of course, was that Geralt was distracted when Jaskier was too close to his fights. He had to slay the beast, yes, but he also had to keep his bard safe, and it drew his attention away from his own movements no matter how hard he tried to focus. Jaskier had a way of invading all of Geralt's senses, until the Witcher could focus on nothing but his bard.

The pair had tailed the creature to the home she’d invaded and the man she had been draining. Geralt had been trying to talk her into just leaving, finding a new person to feed from, but she had gone mad at the thought and attacked Jaskier. Geralt had killed her without hesitation, his own words ringing in his ears as his silver sword slid into her. _I will protect you,_ he had told Jaskier. He meant it. A succubus in love was a dangerous thing, unpredictable and violently territorial. _Just like me_ , the Witcher thought with a hint of amusement as he looked at the human in his arms. He bundled Jaskier onto Roach and climbed up behind him, holding the bard steady against his chest as he kicked the mare into a trot. He wasn't worried about Jaskier. The succubus hadn't had a chance to really hurt him; he was probably just dazed.

They found a suitable place not too far off for Geralt to make camp, and he set the bard down carefully on the ground, propped against a tree as he got their bedrolls laid out and started a fire. Jaskier was slowly blinking awake by the time Geralt was finished and returning to him, and Geralt dropped to his knees next to him and reached out to touch him carefully.

“How are you feeling?” the Witcher asked immediately, hand cupping Jaskier’s face to look at him intently.

“Sore. Um. Also, kinda...well." He cut off with a chuckle. "Aroused?” He sounded embarrassed, thighs shifting as he rubbed them together.

“The succubus turned her focus onto you, Jaskier. It will fade.” 

Jaskier moved uncomfortably, the tent in his trousers only growing as a damp spot started to spread. “Um. Okay. When is that going to happen?”

Geralt let out a surprised laugh and sat back on his heels. “I could help you work it out of your system, if you wanted,” he offered, his voice teasing. Jaskier hit him weakly in the shoulder.

“Very funny. What a chore for you, I’m sure, to see me in the throes of ecstasy…”

He let himself be pulled closer into Geralt’s side though, and when Geralt stood and helped him up, he followed the Witcher over to their bedrolls as if they were connected by an invisible string, settling on the blankets placed neatly side by side within range of the fire’s warmth. Roach was grazing a few feet away from them, determined to ignore their shenanigans, and the two men likewise ignored her in favor of each other. Geralt let Jaskier lay down and then laid down right next to him, pressing them together from hip to groin. This thing between them was still new enough that Geralt was always so careful, mindful of the fragility of their developing bond and Jaskier’s alarmingly human body. He usually let the bard take the lead at first, set his own pace for Geralt to match.

Geralt brought their mouths together, tipping his head down to skim Jaskier’s cheek with his nose before their lips met, soft and clinging. Jaskier let out a surprised sound and slung a leg over Geralt’s hip, wiggling closer as he deepened the kiss.

“G-Geralt, I think she might’ve done more than feed off me,” he managed, hips rocking helplessly against the Witcher’s as he ground their burgeoning erections together. 

Geralt laughed. “No, Jaskier, it’s just you, you insatiable slut.” That wasn’t strictly true, but it made Jaskier moan and so Geralt didn’t amend his comment. The succubus had used some of her power to make the bard pliable, and Geralt was looking forward to reaping the benefits. 

Grabbing the back of his neck, Geralt hauled the bard down into another filthy kiss, one hand going to Jaskier’s hip to help guide his rutting into something more smooth and rhythmic. Their mouths danced and parted as Jaskier struggled to get Geralt out of his shirt while fiddling with his own breeches at the same time. Grabbing Jaskier’s hands to still them, Geralt stripped himself out of his shirt and finished the process of untying the laces of Jaskier’s breeches, freeing his eager cock to the chill of the night air. They were secluded, so Jaskier let his head fall back as he shouted at the stars when Geralt’s calloused hand started working over his cock in even, firm tugs. 

“Oh, I want you to fuck me Geralt. Fuck me under the stars. How romantic!” Jaskier babbled, thrusting his hips forward into the grip of Geralt’s fist. The Witcher stroked him briefly before giving him a parting tug and releasing him. He ignored the bard's whine at the loss of friction, reaching for his own laces and untying them. They parted briefly to remove the rest of their clothes, and soon they lay naked and hard, just staring at each other for a few moments until Geralt spoke. His rough voice cut through the night, while his eyes focused singularly on the bottle of oil in Jaskier’s hands.

“I want to watch you prepare yourself,” he growled, Jaskier’s eyes going wide and dreamy as he nodded, uncorking the oil and pouring it into his palm and over his thin fingers.

Geralt’s eyes were glued to every movement the bard made. Jaskier reclined on his bedroll, spreading his lean thighs and letting Geralt glimpse the hidden pucker just waiting for him between the plush cheeks of the bard’s ass. Taking his own cock into hand, the Witcher arranged himself on his bedroll so that he could see Jaskier’s clever fingers disappearing into himself, touching himself lazily to the sight. One made the bard gasp as he swiveled it inside himself, face flushing as he teased a second finger around the tight rim of his hole. When he pushed it in, he let out a low groan, head dropping onto his own chest so he could watch the movement of his fingers between his legs.

Geralt’s eyes were black surrounded by the thinnest line of molten gold. Jaskier was writhing on his own fingers, inches from Geralt’s face, smelling like sunshine and the spice of lust, and Geralt wanted nothing more than to bury his head between Jaskier’s thighs and breathe for the rest of his days.

“Want to help?” Jaskier asked breathlessly, adding a third finger to his hole and stretching them, his eyes slipping shut. Geralt considered the offer before grabbing the oil from Jaskier’s lax hand and pouring some of it over his own fingers, sliding one without pause straight into Jaskier’s body next to his own.

Jaskier yelped, body twisting, but Geralt’s other hand came to his hip to hold him still. “Too much,” the bard whined, sweat dripping down his temples, but Geralt had no mercy, sliding another one of his own thick fingers into the bard and pressing down unerringly on the spot he knew made the songbird sing while snarling, “You asked for help,” in a voice so thick and gravelly it made the bard twitch.

“Ah! Geralt, please!” True to form, Jaskier was almost wailing, hips rocking like he couldn’t decide whether he wanted more of the delicious pressure or less. Geralt made the choice for him, sliding his fingers and then Jaskier’s own out of the bard’s stretched opening. Jaskier let out a cry at the loss of fullness, his hole fluttering against the chill in the air, but Geralt ignored the protest and took his and Jaskier’s oil slick hands to his own arousal, wrapping them around himself and using the leftover oil to coat his cock. Jaskier was limp, letting himself to be used, and Geralt’s cock throbbed at the dazed look in his eyes. 

Geralt pressed himself snug against the rim of Jaskier’s hole, staring down at the bard as he slowly pressed inside, one firm thrust burying him to the hilt inside of the bard’s well-stretched opening. 

“ _Uhn_ ,” Jaskier managed, hips rocking and hole spasming around the large intrusion. “Gods, Geralt, I forget how big you are,” he whined, digging his heels into the Witcher’s ass. “Move, dammit.”

Geralt grunted in response, head swimming with the unbelievably tight, slick feel of Jaskier around him, his cock pulsing inside that velvet sheath. He pulled back slowly and thrust in, beginning a leisurely pace and reaching down to take Jaskier’s dripping cock in hand, running his thumb over the head and smoothing the precome down the shaft while Jaskier threw his head back and cried out. The bard couldn’t stay still, body moving sinuously as he sought his pleasure, hips rocking between the pressure in his ass and the hand working firmly over his swollen cock, a sword-calloused thumb catching and sparking along sensitive flesh. Jaskier came like it caught him off guard, jerking and shouting with wide eyes focused inward but staring at Geralt. His cock spilled over the Witcher’s fingers, but didn’t soften. 

Letting out a tired whine, Jaskier started trying to shift away from Geralt’s thrusts, but the Witcher held firm. “You need it, don’t you, Jaskier?” he snarled into the bard’s ear, catching it briefly between his teeth. “Need me to fill you up, milk you dry, take all of you.”

He was still pulling ceaselessly on Jaskier’s cock and with a wail, Jaskier spurted again, oversensitive body thrumming as his cock drooled all over his belly. They were filthy, he realized dazedly, body lax and floating as Geralt fucked him into the ground. He noted with a touch of hysteria that his cock was still hard. Geralt had released it after Jaskier’s second orgasm, but it still bobbed between them, obscene and wet, leaking from the tip and flushed with blood. Jaskier’s body was limp but still thrumming with energy and he whimpered in displeasure when Geralt pulled out of his sensitive hole. He was covered in the evidence of his own spend, but still he wasn't satisfied, hips shifting minutely on the bedrolls as his empty hole fluttered wildly.

“Shh,” the Witcher soothed, skimming a hand down Jaskier’s side before gently turning the bard over onto his hands and knees, hiking his hips up and groaning at the sight of his swollen, open hole. “Gods, Jaskier, you’re filthy,” he muttered, fingers pressing over where Jaskier was gaping and empty.

“Fucking put it in me, Witcher,” the bard demanded, canting his hips back and forcing a growl out of Geralt when the bard’s movement slid his crack along Geralt’s dripping cock. 

The Witcher shoved his cock back into his bard’s ready hole, his grin feral when Jaskier screamed and shuddered around him, coming for the third time. His arousal was losing that spicy scent of need, tapering off into the thick, syrupy scent of satisfaction, but Geralt could tell Jaskier had another orgasm in him and he was determined to wring it out of his body.

His thrusts were smooth and deep, fucking Jaskier hard at just the right angle to have him moaning into the bedroll, fingers shoved into his mouth to try and quiet himself as he writhed on Geralt’s cock. Feeling his own orgasm approaching, Geralt reached around Jaskier’s hips to grab at his chest and pull the bard upright against him. One of his hands went to Jaskier’s throat, tipping his head back to kiss and bite at the tempting skin while his other hand slid down to wrap around the bard’s sensitive, swollen cock, stroking him in firm, unforgiving tugs even as his hips writhed and he whined from the sensitivity.

“Too much, I can’t, please,” the bard denied even as his cock twitched and drooled pathetically through another orgasm. His clenching hole proved too much for Geralt combined with the wrecked, dazed look on his face, and the Witcher came with a low moan, shoving deep into Jaskier’s body as he filled him with his seed. He held Jaskier tight for a moment, their sweaty bodies stuck together, until he felt goosebumps begin to rise on Jaskier’s skin from the cooling sweat and come covering him. Releasing the bard, Geralt pulled his softening cock from the warm hole still snug around him and let Jaskier lay down. He pulled a cloth from his pack and wiped himself down before he went to Jaskier, gently spreading the bard's legs and swiping carefully at his leaking, reddened hole while he twitched and watched sleepily.

Once they were suitable for bed, they lay together staring up at the stars, Jaskier’s head pillowed on Geralt’s chest while the bard’s thin fingers stroked down his skin. They didn’t speak, but slowly Geralt felt as Jaskier became dead weight against him, his breaths evening out into the deep ones of rest. He let his own eyes close, and slept without dreams.

* * *

The next morning dawned cold and bright, and they washed in the cold stream before having a breakfast of hard bread and salted fish. After packing up camp, they started off, Jaskier humming a tune as they watched the sun finish rising over the Continent. The day passed uneventfully and they made it into the next town as dusk was settling. The town was poor and crowded, and Geralt’s nose wrinkled as they walked into the bustling inn. It smelled of stale sweat and piss and old beer, and people were crowded around tables arguing and joking and gesticulating with their mugs, sloshing sticky ale down their sleeves and onto the old tables and filthy floor. 

He let Jaskier tug him along to the bar, where he got them a room and a mug of ale each. Geralt sipped his slowly, eyeing the rowdy crowd and the stairs next to the bar. Jaskier caught his gaze and his mouth turned up behind his mug. He took a hearty swig before setting it down and leaning in to speak into Geralt’s ear.

“Just one drink, and then we’ll go,” he promised, patting the Witcher’s shoulder and pulling away to take another swig of his ale. 

Geralt sighed but steadied his resolve and drank his ale, watching as Jaskier began to work the room, gathering information on any disturbances that might result in a contract for his Witcher. He would glance over at Geralt occasionally and make a face just to watch him hide his smirk with the mug in his hand. Eventually he made his way back over to Geralt with a satisfied smile. 

“There’s talk of a water spirit out at the pond of a local merchant. He’s willing to pay handsomely for its removal.”

Geralt made a noise of assent and jerked his head towards the staircase. Jaskier sighed. “Yes, yes, alright, let’s go.” 

Jaskier let Geralt take the stairs first, and they entered the rented room to find a decent sized bed, a nightstand, and a rickety chair and table. A trunk sat at the end of the bed and Geralt began putting his things away while Jaskier kicked his boots off to sprawl out on the bed, already blinking slowly and stifling a yawn behind his hand. Geralt looked at him and quirked a brow, amused.

“If you fall asleep in that it will wrinkle, and then you’ll moan all day tomorrow,” he said sternly, swatting at the bard’s hip and rolling his eyes when Jaskier let out a huff and rolled over. “Jaskier, I mean it. Take it off.”

Jaskier grumbled something about Geralt wanting to get him naked, but he sat up to do as he was told, kicking off his clothes and sliding back under the covers immediately. Geralt rolled his eyes and picked up the bard’s outfit, folding it neatly and setting it on the chair before he removed his own clothes and laid down next to him. Jaskier immediately moved into Geralt’s side and the Witcher gave a put-upon sigh but opened his arms to let him in. With the bard settled against his chest, he let himself rest for a bit until night had settled and he could hunt his spirit.

Geralt laid with Jaskier until the moon was fully risen, and then he slid out from underneath the clinging bard and gathered his things. He made his way out to the merchant's pond, leaving Roach at the edge of the property.

The hunt was difficult. Geralt eventually slayed the spirit, but his eyes were still black and he was coughing water and blood when he returned to their shared room. Dawn was just breaking when he barreled into their room. Jaskier was already awake, humming idly and twirling a quill between his long fingers until the crash of the door opening startled him into dropping it. He took a look at Geralt before jumping into a flurry of movement, grabbing his collection of oils and soaps and calling for a bath. The bath was filled quickly and Geralt let Jaskier fuss with the smells until he was satisfied. 

Once the Witcher was stripped naked and sitting in the bath, Jaskier rolled up the sleeves of his undershirt and took up the rag, wetting it before beginning to wash the evidence of the hunt from his Witcher. 

“You’re covered in muck,” he muttered, mostly to himself, working steadily to untangle the silvery hair that was currently weighed down by algae and dirt. Geralt didn’t respond, just let his eyes close and relaxed into the feeling of being taken care of. It was a rare indulgence for him to let someone so close to him. Or, it had been, until Jaskier. The Witcher could admit that Jaskier had significantly improved his life. Unfortunately, the improvements seemed to be making him soft. He let a low purr slip out as the bard’s strong fingers worked through his hair, down his neck and shoulders, rubbing out tension while cleansing him of more than dirt.

When Jaskier deemed him clean, Geralt stood and stretched, wet muscles gleaming as the sun continued to rise outside. Jaskier swallowed hard and the Witcher almost grinned at the poleaxed expression on his face. If there was one thing Geralt could be certain of, it was Jaskier’s adoration. The lust and affection seemed to pour from his bard in waves at all times, making Geralt dizzy with its intensity if he thought about it for too long.

Jaskier sighed wistfully as Geralt dressed before he moved to pack the rest of his things. “At least let me tie your hair back out of your face,” he said finally, staring in distaste as the Witcher’s hair fell into his face for what felt like the hundredth time. Geralt quirked a brow but handed over a tie. Jaskier stared at the dingy piece of fabric before chucking it over his shoulder and taking one of his own ribbons out of his pack. He ran his fingers through the Witcher’s hair, taking the top half back and tying it off neatly. 

“There we go,” he said as he stepped back and let the Witcher turn around and draw him close. His cheeks flushed when Geralt’s eyes met his. “What?”

Geralt didn’t answer, instead dipping his head down to catch Jaskier’s mouth in a chaste kiss that nonetheless took the bard’s breath away. Geralt did everything with such intensity, from hunting their dinner to fighting monsters, and kissing Jaskier was no exception. The complexity and depth that Geralt communicated through his actions made his lack of words almost irrelevant. Jaskier’s hands drifted up to wrap around Geralt’s neck and pull him closer, and the Witcher released his mouth with a soft nip of his full bottom lip.

“Time to go,” Geralt announced cheerfully, his lips turning up at the corners when he spotted the disbelief on Jaskier’s face.

“Come on, bard, we haven’t got all day,” he added, slinging his pack over his shoulder and waving a hand. “We have work to do.”

Jaskier followed him out of the room grumbling, but he perked up once they were back on the open road.

He hummed as they walked, occasionally muttering to himself and adjusting his fingers on his lute, strumming for a moment and then shaking his head when it didn't come out right. Geralt let him fiddle, feeling particularly indulgent. His Path - and his mood, he had noticed - had significantly improved since this flighty bard had begun to follow him around. 

Of course, that was when it all went to shit.

Jaskier stopped suddenly and Geralt heard him go silent. Annoyed, he halted Roach and turned to look at Jaskier, brows raising when he saw the portal behind him and a woman stepping through.

"Sorry, Witcher," she said apologetically, waving a hand over Jaskier. Geralt watched in horror as the bard's eyes went empty and he shouted as he vaulted from Roach.

" _Jaskier_!" But the bard was already gone.

Geralt watched as the portal closed behind Jaskier and his unknown captor, and he clenched his fists.

Well, shit.


End file.
